


kissing death and losing my breath

by SmoakScreen (midwestwind)



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: 2x07, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Tag, Friendship, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 13:42:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1057436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midwestwind/pseuds/SmoakScreen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"In the grand scheme of things, she figures she's probably due for a mental break anyway."</p><p>Picks up immediately after the end of 2x07.</p>
            </blockquote>





	kissing death and losing my breath

**Author's Note:**

> There's not a while lot of plot to this other than me wanting to give Felicity the chance to respond to the events with the Count the way she might if she weren't a secondary character on a superhero show (where people nearly die on a bi-weekly basis and seem to move on pretty quickly).

In the grand scheme of things, she figures she's probably due for a mental break anyway.

She'd never have imagined herself being in most of the precarious positions she's put herself in over the past year. In fact, jumping out of an airplane is probably one of her more mild ideas lately. John and Oliver trail out of the foundry before her and she's left to fold her shock blanket up nice and neat with shaking hands and turn off the lights.

And in the dark, guilt somewhat squelched, adrenaline no longer pumping, immediate threat to her life gone, Felicity sits down and has herself a nice cry.

Later, she takes two consecutive showers and attempts to scrub the Count's grubby touch from her neck, her shoulder, her hair. She still feels his fingers as she lies in bed and sleep evades her. She tries to focus instead on the feeling of Oliver's hand on her face, his fingers wrapped around hers. She's bombarded by the image of his smile as he wished her goodnight mixed with the pain on his face as he stared down at the Count's body.

The guilt almost consumes her whole and, before she can't put a lid on it, her chest is heaving with sobs. She cries until she exhausts herself and falls asleep.

Felicity's so determined to go on as normal she's taken by surprise by the police officers in the lobby. She hesitates as one of them barks orders at the poor security guard – Phil – behind the desk. Their looking for surveillance footage she knows no longer exists. Part of her registers that it's lucky they waited until morning to get the footage and not before she had a chance to erase it. She forces herself to move forward, not to linger or draw attention, and she's almost to the elevator when the other cop stops her.

“Ms. Smoak!” Felicity recognizes the voice immediately and flinches, turning to face Quentin and teetering slightly on her heels. She picks at the buttons on her coat as he makes his way over.

“What is it with this building, huh?” She knows it's supposed to be a joke but she only manages a weak chuckle and Quentin is immediately on alert. His eyes narrow as he places his hand on her upper arm.

“Were you involved in what happened last night? Were you here?” Felicity swallows thickly and tries to come up with a response, tries to keep her hands from shaking. She tightens her grip on her purse strap.

“I..,” she can't remember the last time her mind had run completely blank. “I was-” She's cut off by the sound of another voice calling for her across the lobby.

“Ms. Smoak!” Her eyes focus on the figure behind Quentin. _Of course_ , she thinks almost bitterly, _Oliver's here to save her hide again_. The little part of her she's been having trouble ignoring lately reminds her that she kind of likes it. An idea strikes her suddenly and she latches on to Quentin's arm.

“Detective Lance,” she hisses, momentarily forgetting his demotion, “he doesn't know. Please don't..” she trails off as Oliver nears and the officer nods in understanding.

“Mr. Queen,” she greets, giving her best employee smile, “did you need something?” He nods but greets Quentin before answering.

“Officer Lance,” he gives a smile that makes Felicity flinch, “I hope my assistant here isn't in any legal trouble.” He chuckles and Lance gives him a smile and shakes his head.

“Nope,” he turns and gives Felicity one last look, “not today.” He turns to rejoin the officer still trying to get the footage from Phil and she let's out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She gives her head a slight shake and catches Oliver watching her.

“You said you needed something?” He watches her for a minute before reaching around her to hit the elevator button.

“Just seemed like you could use a save,” he explains, leading her into the elevator. She lets out another weak chuckle as the doors slide shut.

“You must be sick of saving me by now.” He turns to her suddenly and rests his hand on her lower back. She'd swear even through the extra layer of her coat she can feel the heat of his palm as if it were against her bare skin.

“Are you alright?”

“I'm fine, Oliver,” she promises, giving him a real smile this time, “really. Look, alive, breathing, not a drug addict.” Guilty. Terrified. He gives her a smile in return and nods, side stepping to put some distance between them in the car. They reach their floor and the doors open and Felicity is once again surprised at the amount of people buzzing around. A crew works at patching up the window in Oliver's office and she spends the rest of the day trying to keep herself busy and ignoring the news.

Later, in the foundry, she feels safe for the first time since she got out of bed that morning. Oliver and John are out doing what they do and she can hear their breathing and grunting over the comms but it seems like a relatively calm night in Starling City. She revels in the buzzing of her monitors and the emptiness of the foundry. Verdant has been closed indefinitely while Thea spends time with her mother. Felicity wonders vaguely how Oliver is getting away with not doing the same.

The sound of an arrow flying breaks her out of her thoughts and makes her jump. Something shatters on the other end of her earpiece and suddenly she's back in Oliver's officer and the Count is falling through the window to the street below. She yelps at the memory and pulls the device from her ear tossing it on her desk and pushing herself up and away from it.

She's not sure how long she spends pacing barefoot around the foundry and muttering to herself before John comes in, looking a little panicked.

“Felicity?” He calls once again pulling her from her thoughts and she spins to face him. He looks like he ran halfway across the Glades to get to her.

“We heard something over the comms and then we couldn't get a response from you,” he says, a little breathless from the run. She fumbles over her words before finally getting them to come out right.

“Sorry, I- I got spooked by something,” she tells him quietly, heading back towards her computers. She can feel him watching her as she goes.

“Are you alright?” She gives him and smile and nods as she drops back down into her chair. She picks up the earpiece and fiddles with it between her fingers but doesn't put it back in. John moves over to stand next to her and she doesn't like that he's towering over her as he scrutinizes her. Suddenly, she finds herself very angry. At him for being able to read her, at Oliver for picking her car to break into bloody and hooded up, at the Count for being such a major tool, and at herself for being so unbelievably stupid.

“Are you sure?” John asks again and Felicity snaps.

“I'm fine, John!” She doesn't mean to yell, it's not his fault, but she feels like she's spinning out of control. He looks a little wounded but she knows he won't yell back, part of her wishes he would. John nods and begins backing away.

“I'll give you some time,” he tells her before turning and leaving the foundry. Felicity sighs and lays her head on her arms on the desk, suddenly exhausted.

She doesn't realize she's fallen asleep until someone is gently shaking her awake. She picks her head up and opens her eyes to find a still hooded Oliver.

“What happened?” He asks and she realizes no one ever clued him into the fact that everything was okay. “Where's Digg?”

“I think he's mad at me,” she murmurs, smoothing a hand over her hair and trying to wake herself up fully. “I kind of yelled at him.” Oliver's quiet for a moment but she can feel his eyes on her. She preoccupies herself with something on the screen and avoids his gaze.

“Please, don't ask me if I'm alright, okay? Please,” she begs and hears him give a resigned sigh.

“Okay.” She puts her face in her hands and hears him milling about behind her, putting away his bow and quiver, unzipping the leather of his suit jacket. When she hears him return and picks her head up, he's wearing a different t-shirt and he's pulled over a chair.

“So, what's going on?” He asks as he sits down and faces her. She hesitates, unsure where to even begin.

“I just need time to process,” she tells him, “I'll be fine.” He searches her face but nods nonetheless.

“If you need a few days..,” he offers but she shakes her head.

“No,” she insists, “I feel safest here.” He gives her a small smile at that and nods, cupping the side of her jaw with his hand. He leans forward and drops a light kiss on her forehead.

“Do you want me to take you home?” She almost shakes her head, her car is in the parking lot and she's perfectly capable of driving, but still..

“Will you stay with me for a little while?” He smiles again.

“If you want me to, of course."


End file.
